


It May Not Be Perfect, But Neither Are We

by idreamofstylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Date, Fluff, M/M, idek what im doing, mentions of chinese food and wedding parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofstylinson/pseuds/idreamofstylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis go on their first date, but it seems that fate has other plans. (Basically, this is just another cliche mini-fic that you've read a thousand and one times before, but with added shits and giggles).</p>
            </blockquote>





	It May Not Be Perfect, But Neither Are We

**Author's Note:**

> So I met a man who told me the story of he and his wife's first date. Needless to say, this is that story.

            When Harry first saw Louis, he was awestruck to say the least. He watched the unfamiliar pair of legs carry the man around the churchyard, stared helplessly as the foreign lips charmed the trousers off the people around him. Harry spent what felt like hours, but could easily have been seconds, studying the stranger’s every move, every sound as the wedding reception went on and on. When he realized that he must have seemed like topnotch stalker material, Harry spoke to his mother.

            “Mum,” He murmured in her ear, politely excusing her from a conversation with some third cousin twice removed, or something. Anne smiled at her son and wrapped her arm through his. “Mum, who is that man talking to Robert’s mother?” Harry gestured discreetly to the far off area where Louis was sat entertaining Harry’s sister’s new in-laws.

            “Oh!” Anne’s face split into an even bigger grin at the sight and she waved her hands with enthusiasm. “That’s one of Robert’s old school friends. Louis, I think his name is. Charming lad, he is, and his mother Jay is just the most darling thing! From Doncaster, but Louis’ just bought a flat here in the city, I believe.”

            Harry processed the new information like he was a starving man and his mother’s words were a Christmas feast, his mind storing it all away for future reference. He was so busy sorting through his thoughts of _LouisLouisLouis_ that he didn’t realize he and his mother had started walking until they were standing before Louis himself. The young man smiled at Harry in the way that strangers tend to do before they’re introduced, hesitant and expectant and curious all in one. Harry thought he was going to throw up.

            A woman with long dark hair and a friendly smile suddenly appeared in Harry’s field of vision and he had to physically step back as her arms shot out in every direction.

            “Anne!” The woman exclaimed, wrapping Harry’s mother up in a hug, which was quickly received and reciprocated. “Oh, darling, it’s so nice to see you again! The wedding was brilliant and Gemma looked absolutely stunning in that dress!”

            “Didn’t she?” Anne gushed. Harry could practically smell the pride radiating off her. “I’ve always told her that she’d make a flawless bride.”

            Harry watched his mother and the woman continue to fawn over the details of his sister’s wedding, trying his hardest not to glance in the direction of Louis as, if he did, his insides would spontaneously combust. 

            “Oh, Jay,” Anne reached for Harry’s fingers and joined them with the woman’s—Jay, so it seemed—own hand. The shook politely and Harry smiled his most award-worthy smile, dimples and all. “This is my son, Harry.”

            “It’s nice to meet you, Harry,” Jay grinned and then suddenly reached for the body next to hers, as if just then realizing she had a son of her own. “And this is Louis, my oldest.”

            Harry prayed to whatever god was listening that he did not look as pathetically infatuated as he felt when his hand shook with Louis’. The other boy’s was smaller and more square compared to Harry’s slender, wiry fingers, and Harry found himself biting back a smile at the sight.

            Louis' polite smile never faltered, but Harry was almost sure that he saw the boy's eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement.  _Great,_ Harry thought,  _He thinks I'm a nutter._  

            "Y'alright, mate," Louis finally greeted, subtly pulling his hand out of Harry's probably profusely sweaty one. Harry felt the blush creep onto his pale cheeks and he cursed himself. He could just barely nod in Louis' direction. Louis chuckled, though, and when Harry looked up, their eyes met. Once again Harry was sent into humiliating inner turmoil because  _blue_. Louis' eyes were the most fascinating shade of blue that Harry couldn't even wrap his head around if he wanted to. They were blue and they were bright and they were  _alive_ and wow, if Harry could only wrap Louis' eyes around him like a blanket he'd be safe for the rest of his life. 

            "So, Louis," Harry was shocked out of his state of utter cliche by the cheerful sound of his mother's voice. He tore his gaze away from Louis to look at Anne. "Your mother tells me you've gone and gotten yourself a place in the city? That's wonderful!"

            Louis grinned brightly and nodded along with Anne's words. "Yeah, I mean, it's a shit flat, but I'm excited nonetheless." 

            "Louis!" Jay chastised her son for cursing in front of a woman and especially  _his mother_ _, for God's sake_ , and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Louis sent him a brief glare but Harry could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

            Anne seemed to be having a bit of a laugh of her own and continued speaking to Louis. "When are you moving in?" 

            "This weekend, actually. Gotta clear my entire schedule just to get all of my sh--I mean,  _stuff--_ into the place. Should be a real eventful three days." 

            "Oh, nonsense! Harry here could help you move your things! He knows the city well enough and I know he's not planned anything for the weekend!" Harry gave an indignified squawk at his mother's words and counted how many milliseconds it took for his face to flush this time. (Three). 

            Louis seemed to sense Harry's embarrassment and quickly recovered any further perpetual humiliation. "Oh no, Anne, he doesn't have to--"

            Anne rolled her eyes. "Hush, he would _love_ to! Wouldn't you Haz?" If looks could make someone disappear, Harry's gaze on his mother's would have surely worked by now.  

            Determined, however, not to look like the pathetic 19 year old he  _was_ , Harry shrugged and met Louis' curious stare. "Yeah, mate, wouldn't be a bother." 

            If Louis was shocked by Harry's sudden confidence, he definitely didn't show it. He simply raised one eyebrow and smirked in Harry's direction, nodding slowly. 

            Jay and Anne grinned slyly at each other from beside the boys, who were, in fact, completely oblivious to everything but each other. 

 

~ 

 

            Louis was right when he said his flat was shit, because it really was. The paint was chipping on the walls in every corner and the only source of sunlight came from the dusty window in the living room. The kitchen was tiny and so was the fridge, and the one bedroom across from the toilet in the hallway was the size of a large closet. Altogether, the place was meant for a young newcomer to the city, which was Louis' exact reasoning for his buying it. 

            Harry had arrived at half three and was promptly met by Louis at the front door, a relieved smile gracing his lips. 

            "Thank God you're here, I've all my things in my mate Zayn's car in the lot and he just called saying he needs it in an hour. Fucking twat, he is sometimes, but the past is the past. Let's go, then," Harry blinked twice at Louis' fast greeting and let himself be led back to the shit lift by the older boy's tight grasp on his forearm.

            Fast forward forty minutes and Harry found himself sweaty and panting against the countertop in Louis' small kitchen. He'd finally finished carrying all thiry-three cardboard boxes into the flat, with no actual lifting done by Louis, mind you, and he was fucking  _exhausted_. Louis hummed from his position in front of refridgerator, pulling out two water bottles and tossing one to Harry who caught it lazily. 

            "Thank you, again, Harry. Imagine if I had to do all that on my own!" Louis looked genuinely frightened and Harry couldn't help but let out a disbelieving gasp. 

            "Mate, I can imagine it because I  _did_ do it all on my own! I didn't see you lift one box," He wanted it to seem more aggravated and not completely enamoured, which it was, and it was definitely not help that he couldn't keep the smile off his face. 

            Louis waved a hand in the air as if he was shooing off the comment. "Potayto, potahto,  _thank you_. That's the best you're gonna get, babe."

            Harry flushed at the nickname, told himself over and over again that it wasn't a thing, but the back of his mind kept a little hope that maybe Louis liked the sound of it too.

 

~

 

            _Ring._

            Harry held his breath but let it out when he realized that he  _couldn't fucking breathe, arsehole_ and pressed his cell phone firmly to his ear. 

             _Ring._

            He was about to call the whole thing off and hang up then while he still had some miniscule amount of dignity, but a sweet voice on the other end of the phone stopped him mid-movement. 

            "'Lo?" Louis answered. Harry could hear some rustling in the background and hoped he wasn't interrupting something.

            "Uh." He gulped. "Hi. Louis?" He really is genius at times. 

            "Yeah, s'me. Um, who's calling?" Shit.

            "Uh, yeah, it's, uh, it's Harry. Harry Styles." Harry knocked his curly head on his bedroom wall a few times, then rolled his eyes at himself for good measure. 

            "Oh, Harry!" Louis seemed to let out a big breath across the line. "Yeah, hi, sorry 'bout that. Wait--how did you. How'd you get my number?" 

            Harry blanched because wait, that doesn't usually come up in casual conversations, does it? Harry hadn't rehearsed any answer to that in his utterly pathetic previous attempts at calling. "Well, I--"

            "I swear," Louis interrupted, as if Harry hadn't begun to answer at all. "If my mother pestered you into calling me, I really am sorry. Jesus, that woman thinks I'm going to die alone in this damn flat without having made any--"

            "No, Louis, no. Your mum didn't give it to me. I, erm, I helped you move in, remember? Just called information with the address and got the number. Hope that's alright?"

            A pause festered between the phone lines and Harry was starting to think Louis'd hung up until he heard a little intake of breath in his ear. 

            "Oh, yeah, Harry that's. That's good. Fine, I mean. S'fine. How are you?" 

            Harry breathed a sigh of great relief before flopping backwards onto his mattress. 

            "I'm great, Louis." He smiled at the phone because this was his life now; 19 years old and he'd got a primary school crush. 

 

            They talked until they both fell asleep two hours later, phones still on, their slow breaths easing each other into their dreams. 

 

~

 

           It went on like that for a week, Harry and Louis talking on the phone for hours on end, sometimes not even talking and just listening to the other on the phone line, taking comfort knowing that neither had hung up yet. They rarely saw each other in person over the week; in fact, only once when they so happened to run into each other at Tesco. But it was good. Louis was good. Louis was amazing.

           Harry was absolutely done for. 

 

~

 

           "So," Harry started Sunday night during one of their pointless conversations about something that didn't really matter but actually did because anything mattered when it involved Louis.

           "So." Louis said, close and breathy on the reciever that it almost was like he was next to Harry right then. 

           "So," Harry continued. "Do you want to grab dinner or something. Like. With me. Food?" 

           Louis laughed a little at that. "Of course, yeah, food is good. I'm just, uh, this week is really busy for me with class and work and everything. But I'll definitely let you know when I'm free." 

           Harry wasn't fully convinced, not with the hesitation evident in Louis' voice, but he accepted it as at least something. Some progress made over the past week of countless hours of conversation. It was something, and something was something in Harry's mind. 

           "Yeah, sure, let me know."

           "Night, Harry." 

           "Goodnight, Lou."

 

~

 

           Louis had been "busy" four times that week.

           Whenever Harry called, they would talk like usual, bantering about Louis'  _horrid_ taste in music and professing their mutual hate for Christopher on The X-Factor that year. But when Harry mentioned going out, Louis said it wouldn't work then _, but definitely soon._

After the fourth rejection, Harry had pretty much grown immune and barely even blinked when he heard the familiar, "Oh, tomorrow? Well...". But he didn't stop asking, even when he expected the 'no' more than the 'yes'. 

           That was, until that Friday night. Harry was hanging out with Liam and Niall, his best mates since they bonded over comic books in primary school. The three were at Liam's flat, watching a local footie match on tv and taking the mick out of every foolish mistake one of the ameteur players made. Niall and Liam were barely paying attention to the game, too engrossed in their matching heart eyes to notice anything going on, really. Harry didn't even attempt to tease them about it, as his jokes would just fall on deaf ears, so he muted the tv and decided to call Louis. It was about time for their usual call, anyways. Not that they were dating and Harry  _had_ to call him and ask about his day, but. Yeah. 

            So he dialed Louis' number slowly, pretending he really needed to draw it out of his memories, even though it was probably engraved into the backs of his eyelids at this point. 

            Louis answered after the first ring, like he was already expecting the call. Which he most likely was. "Hello, Hazzabear. What a surprise."

            Harry snorted and clamped a hand over his mouth when Niall and Liam turned to glare at him for interrupting their...whatever. "Hey, Lou, y'alright?"

            "I'm lovely. Got outta class early today so I've just been watching the Doctor on the telly all afternoon."

            Harry hummed in appreciation and cleared his throat. "What are you doing for dinner, then?" What? It's not like he just wasn't going to ask. 

            "Well, depends on what you're really asking." Harry believed that, for a guy who rejected every one of Harry's attempts at a date, he sure loved to hear the question anyhow. So Harry, one to always obey tradition, asked Louis out for the fifth time that week, even when the rejection was staring him in the face like an obnoxious clown.

            "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" 

            Louis hmm'd and tutted across the line, pretending to really consider it. 

            "I'd love to." 

            "It's alright, maybe anot--wait," Harry moved the phone from his ear to make sure he hadn't accidentally added a completely different person to the phone call because  _what?_   Did Louis just say yes? "Did you. Did you just say yes?"

            Louis laughed at Harry's astonishment and the sound tickled Harry's eardrums with the volume of it. "Yes, you big idiot. It's not like I  _enjoy_ saying no to you every time, though it is flattering that you haven't given up on me yet; I actually do want to see you." 

            Harry felt like flying out the window, or at the very least jumping up and down like a twelve year old girl because Louis said  _yes_. A yes is the opposite of a no, and a no is what Harry had been expecting, had been waiting for. But this. This was a yes. 

            "I'd never give up on you, Louis." He cringed as he said it because, seriously, how cliche, but Harry meant it. 

            "Pick me up at seven then?" 

            Harry nodded, even though he knew Louis couldn't see him over the phone, and agreed hurriedly, not wanting the older lad to change his mind again or say he was just taking the piss or something. Louis chuckled and said goodbye, that he needed to get ready and that he was excited, and Harry was, too. Harry was so excited. They hung up and Harry felt like his heart was finally slowing back down to human speed. 

            "Who was that?" Niall asked from beside Harry on the couch, making Harry jump in surprise. "And why do you look so happy?"

            " _That_ ," Harry breathed out with another grin. "That was Louis. And I will finally be taking him on a date tonight at seven o'clock."

            "Seven?" Liam questioned with a raised eyebrow that really just looked ridiculous because Liam. "It's half six right now, Harry." 

            No. "Half what, Liam?" Harry shook his head, he couldn't have heard right. He looked at the clock on the wall. No, it was only... "Shit. Shitshitshit. Okay, shit. Alright, I'm leaving now because it's half six and almost seven. Okay, shit, okay, goodbye." And with that, Harry was out the front door and in his car, determined to break every speed limit if it got him home in time for a shower. 

 

~

 

            It did, and Harry was home with ten minutes to get ready and leave for Louis' flat, which he was climbing the stairs to at the very moment. He was breathing hard, not being in the right state to consider taking the elevator to Louis' floor. It was 7:01 when he knocked on the white door and caught his breath. Louis opened the door with a bright smile and even brighter blue eyes. 

            "Hi!" He greeted, opening the door and pulling Harry inside. The flat didn't look too different from when Harry had seen it two weeks prior, the same shit walls and furniture but with added Louis to it. Photo frames lined the tables and walls on thin hooks, pictures of Louis and his mates and his family and seemingly anyone he'd ever met in his life all frozen in time for him to hang in his home. Harry tried not to let himself hope that one day he'd make it into one of Louis' frames. 

             "I just have to throw on my shoes..." Louis mumbled from behind Harry, and when Harry turned around he saw Louis haphazardly sliding on a pair of beat up converse sneakers over his bare feet. Harry smiled a little at the way Louis' fingers were trembling nervously around the shoelaces, thinking to himself  _Yeah, me too._  

             When Louis finally stood up, he smiled again, though Harry wasn't sure the smile ever left, and locked his flat behind them as they left. At the lift, Louis' shaking fingers reappeared as he pressed the 'down' button, and Harry took a deep breath before curling his own fingers around Louis'. The shaking immediately stopped and Harry could literally feel the reassurance and relaxation settling between them. 

             If Harry was falling before this, he had definitely landed now. 

 

~

 

           "Welcome to The Hong Kong Palace, table for two?" 

           Harry smiled at the small, heavily accented Chinese women standing before them, gripping Louis' hand tighter to stop the older boy from laughing. Harry nodded at the woman and she led them through the Chinese restaurant until they reached a small table in the far corner. It was a small place, the term 'Palace' a bit misleading, but it was packed with people and noise and excitement. Harry took it all in stride, but Louis looked a little overwhelmed. 

            "You okay?" He asked, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. 

            "Yeah, I'm great," Louis smiled at him and copied his movements. Their noses were nearly touching at this point. "Just...crowded, eh? Who know a shady Chinese restaurant would be such a go-to place."

            Harry gasped with mock alarm and placed a hand over his heart. "Shady? I'll have you know that this restaurant has gotten at least three stars out of five and I've not got food poisoning yet, so."

            Louis laughed and Harry nearly melted. "Okay," Louis said between giggles. "Then it must just be across the street from a hospital for extra precaution." They both laughed at that, and Harry had to agree because, well. The hospital _was_ across the street. 

            A waiter came with a piping hot kettle of tea and Louis' face split into a massive grin. Harry couldn't help but take note that the brightness in Louis' eyes could give the sun a run for its money. 

            Louis drank his tea plain, scoffed when Harry added three whole sugar packets to his, and they talked. They talked about nothing and everything and anything and drank more cups of tea than either of them could count. Their waiter returned to their table three times, ready to take down their dinner orders, but each time the boys barely supressed their laughter and begged the man to give them just  _five more minutes, please_. They still hadn't ordered by the time Louis announced that he had to use the toilet. 

            "I think it's down there?" Harry said, pointing to the farthest end of the restaurant at a sign he could just barely read. 

            "I'll be right back," Louis assured, taking one last sip of his tea before standing up and manuvering his way past the crowded tables. Harry watched the sway of his hips as he walked away, the unbelievably perfect curve to his arse, the way his legs carried him confidently. Harry still couldn't believe Louis was real. 

 

            Twenty minutes later, Harry allowed himself to panic. 

            He tried to come up with logical reasons as to why it was taking Louis so long to come back to the table. Maybe he ran into a friend or someone on his way back, or maybe he dropped his phone in the toilet. They seemed reasonable enough to Harry, but in the back of his mind the thought of  _maybe he left_ replayed like a fucking mantra. He was just about to give in to his hopelessness when the same woman from earlier rushed over to him with a flustered expression. 

            "You are Harry?" She asked in her thick accent. Harry nodded once, slowly, not understanding why she was asking. The woman's eyes opened wider and she grabbed Harry's hand. "Oh, boy, you come with me." 

             The woman hurried Harry across the restaurant, toward the toilets and Harry tried to keep up. The panic was still in his head, his heart, but it was different now. He almost felt like he couldn't breathe, and when the Chinese woman pushed open the door to the toilets, Harry understood why. 

             There Louis was, lying on the tile floor, out cold. His hair was damp with sweat and his face was pale, paler than Harry's even. Harry didn't have to think, barely even had to register the situation before he surged down and wrapped Louis up in his arms. Louis was drenched in cold sweat and just the look of him scared Harry enough that his legs almost gave out, but he could feel Louis' shallow breaths against his chest and that. That was okay. Louis was still okay. But Louis was definitely not good. 

             The woman clucked her tongue and tapped her small foot. "Think he drink too much. No more beer." 

             Harry blinked at her, regaining his bearings, before shakng his head. "No," He told her. "No, we've only had tea." 

             "Oh," the woman replied. "Then he sick." 

             Harry used all his energy to stop himself from yelling in the woman's face because _of fucking course_ Louis was sick, thank you. Without a second thought, Harry was running out of the restaurant with an unconscious boy in his arms and a numbing panic in his heart. 

 

~

 

             So, basically, having hospitals across from restaurants is the most convenient thing in history. Harry hadn't even bothered to grab his car, instead running across the street and up the drive to the entrance of the emergency room with Louis still in his arms. The nurses immediately placed Louis in a wheelchair and took him somewhere Harry couldn't see. The one's who stayed with Harry pestered him with questions (What's Louis' middle name? Where was he born? Does he have any known health issues?), all of which Harry could only answer with a shrug and a nervous look. 

            One of the nurses--Eleanor, as she introduced herself--looked up at Harry with inquisitve brown eyes. "You don't really know your husband too well, do you?"

            Harry barked out a laugh, half in amusement and half in pure shock. "Miss, this is our first date." 

            Eleanor's eyes widened almost comically, then narrowed as the turn of her lips turned coy. She shook her head lightly, patted Harry's disheveled curls, and hummed, "Babe, I hope you're ready to marry that boy." 

 

~

 

           Three hours, six reruns of The Great British Bake Off, and four "Is it really your first date"s later, Harry could finally see Louis. Eleanor came back to the waiting room with a knowing smile and stood in front of Harry. 

           "He asked if his date was still here. Told him your lazy arse wouldn't get out of that chair even if the building was falling down around you." The panic disappeared in Harry's chest and he gave Eleanor what he hoped was a grateful look. Her eyes softened then and she touched Harry's arm gently. "He's alright. Was apparently a nervous wreck about your date, didn't eat proper food all day long, got a bit dehydrated. But he's alright, Harry." 

           Harry nodded, a sudden wave of sheer affection welling up inside of him because Louis will surely be the reason for many more dramatics in their future and Harry couldn't be more comfortable with that. 

           "Where is he?" He asked, already stepping around the petite nurse to the direction of the hospital rooms. 

           "Room 113, on the left!" Harry waved his gratitude and Eleanor smiled back, winking at him before returning to her post at the nurses station. 

           "Louis?" Harry called out the minute he saw the numbers on the door. He rushed in and was overwhelmed with relief when he saw Louis sitting up in the hospital bed, colour back in his cheeks and eyes full of life again. Louis blushed the minute he saw Harry, but he smiled anyways. 

           "Hi," He mumbled as Harry stepped over to the bed. "Um, yeah. Sorry about this." He chuckled and Harry smiled and they were just so perfectly screwed up. 

           Harry took Louis' hand in his own, smile never faltering. "I'm glad you're okay, Lou. I was scared shitless out there." 

           "Thank you," Louis entagled their fingers slowly as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Thank you for not leaving." 

           Harry didn't miss a beat, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Louis' with all the energy he had left.

            "I told you I'd never give up on you, Louis."

 

~

 

          When Harry first saw Louis at his sister's wedding reception, it was September. 

          And when Harry first saw Louis at their own wedding, it was November. 

          Harry kept his promise, he never gave up on Louis, and Louis never gave up on him. 

 

           

 


End file.
